


Unspeakably Desirable

by JamieOlivier



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Older Man/Younger Woman, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:34:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22241893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieOlivier/pseuds/JamieOlivier
Summary: A Bill x Hermione fic told in a series of vignettes.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bill Weasley
Comments: 37
Kudos: 347





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As always, all of my love to Golden Sparks for her beta work, unflagging encouragement, and this beautiful image:
> 
> “There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable.”  
> ― Mark Twain

Bill had never fathomed how a fully grown adult could look at someone underage and be consumed by lusty thoughts. In his mind, it was an abhorrent practice which should be punished in the most horrific way possible. Until the day he understood. 

At first glance, her body belied her age: high, beautiful - if not large - tits, a pert, round arse, and a face which held no hint of baby fat. To listen to her speak, he might have forgotten he wasn't standing in Gringotts conversing with a customer. She couldn't have been any older than 14. 

The first time he took himself in hand and imagined her below him, her legs spread wide and her slit glistening, he came silently and shamefully, unwilling to let even a sound leave his lips lest it be her name. He was 23 and the age of consent was still two years in her future. 

It didn't stop him from watching her like the worst sort of lecher. For the remainder of the week before she returned to Hogwarts, he kept his hands to himself, but his eyes frequently wandered. There was something nebulous growing between her and his youngest brother, but even that didn't deter him. 

His guiltiest moments were when she sought him out - him, over all of his brothers, over his sister, over even Harry Potter. They sat for hours and talked, his fingers curling into his jeans for want of touching her, because he knew that if he started - even innocently - he'd never stop. She was everything he'd ever heard about her: brilliant, clever, kind, passionate. 

She was perfect. 

And then she blushed. He didn't know what he'd said to cause it - it couldn't have been anything too scandalous, he guarded his tongue far too closely for that. But in the next moment, she bit her lip and looked up at him through her lashes, a coy yet unpracticed glance that left him stiff in an instant. 

Whatever she saw in him, whatever swirling emotions showed themselves in his eyes - he wasn't kidding himself that it was anything other than concentrated lust - gave her the strength to leave her chair and stand before where he sat on the sofa. Bloody Gryffindor courage.

“Bill,” she inquired, her soft voice trembling ever so slightly. 

Pain was the best way to describe the aching need coupled with self-denial which raced through him. Because, in that moment, he knew he could have her by compromising his morals even further and breaking several laws. Only the tiniest thread of his decency remained to hold him back.

His short, neat fingernails dug further into his jeans, the ripping-like sound drawing her eye. 

She stepped closer, her tongue sneaking out to wet her lips, and he'd never been more grateful for the way he was sitting, one ankle resting atop the opposite knee, because not only did it hide his raging erection, it prevented her from getting too close.

“Ask me again when you turn 16,” he rasped. 

Too smart to pretend ignorance, she nodded. “Another year, then.”

“Only one?” he asked, hopeful.

She confirmed with a nod. “I'm 15 next month.”

Thirteen months instead of 24 like he’d originally thought. He could manage that, right? “I'll wait for you. If you want,” he promised, the weight of it settling on him like an unbreakable vow.

With another sharp nod, she backed away, finally allowing him to breathe properly, then left the room.

━━✫・*。

Bill accompanied his mother to see all of them to King’s Cross the next morning. Hermione watched him nearly as closely as he’d watched her since they first met a week ago. If she trusted him less, she would be worried about what was happening between them, but instead she felt powerful. No one had ever looked at her the way he did, as though he wanted to possess her and protect her at the same time.

Understanding his tenuous control, she only waved to him before stepping onto the train. 

They could hardly exchange letters by owl without risking comment, which meant face-to-face contact was even more limited. She’d known this would be the way of things. But, still, she was disappointed when Christmas passed without a visit from him to the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley took it in stride, enthusiastically explaining that Bill was finishing up a site in Egypt so he could accept a position at Gringotts Diagon Alley branch without leaving any loose ends. Hermione tried not to read anything into the revelation.

It was June before she saw him again, almost the whole school year gone. Hermione was on her way to the Common Room, and rounded the corner to see the Beauxbatons champion, Fleur, in the hallway in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, blatantly flirting with Bill. Pain started in her chest and quickly radiated outward. It was a wonder her suddenly weak legs could still support her, though, traitors that they were, they ignored her orders to turn and flee. The fact that Bill looked massively uncomfortable was only a minor comfort when faced with the knowledge that he could have any witch he wanted, including the _of age_ beautiful French part-Veela.

“Pardonnez-moi, mademoiselle,” Bill replied to whatever Fleur had just said. “Je vois mon amie.”

Without waiting for an answer, he walked away from Fleur, missing the annoyed glare she directed at his back.

“Hermione!” he shouted a little too exuberantly for someone greeting a much younger friend, pulling her into a tight hug which, despite their location and audience, ended far too quickly for her taste. He kept his arm around her shoulders and dropped his voice. “Walk with me.”

“You speak French,” she observed numbly as she allowed him to guide her away from the now scowling other woman.

“I speak several languages, actually. You know I used to travel for work?”

She nodded.

“Sometimes I’d rather learn the language than rely on translation spells, you know, actually commit myself to the experience instead of remaining an outsider.”

“That’s wonderful.” It was, but all of her emotions felt flat. Hermione knew Bill was highly intelligent. As a former Head Boy and now a curse breaker, he had to be. The fact that she could sit and have a conversation with him about a variety of subjects was one of the things that had drawn her to him in the first place.

“There,” he said, turning them down another corridor and subtly glancing back the way they’d come. “That’s far enough. She’s not following us. Thank you for rescuing me.”

“Thank you?” She looked up at him curiously. “I would have thought --”

He frowned. “Then you would have thought wrong. Did you not see how happy I was to get away from her just now? I’d already told her ‘no’ twice, the pushy French b--” He stopped abruptly, his full lips pressing together. 

“I did. But it made me realize --” She looked away. “Well, there are going to be other witches…” 

He ducked his head until she could no longer avoid his gaze. “I made a promise that I would wait for you, Hermione, and I meant it. Now, I don’t know what you were thinking when I said it, but to me it doesn’t just mean I’m looking forward to you turning 16. This isn’t about sex. It means _I will wait for you_. There aren’t going to be any other witches.”

Hermione was grateful most of the students were outside awaiting the start of the third task as she felt tears well in her eyes. “I don’t know why you’d want to wait for me when you could be with one of them now.”

“Because I’ve never met a witch who entices me half as much as you do. And I mean that in every way. You are beautiful and brilliant, and I’m honored you would even entertain the idea of being with me.”

“But you’re --”

“I’m nine years older than you. Why would you want to wait to be with a wizard who’s ready to start having conversations about settling down and having babies when you’ve barely begun your post-O.W.L. studies?” He raised an eyebrow at her and she realized that they were truly at different points in their lives, and likely experiencing the same insecurities about whatever this relationship between them was.

A horn sounded from outside, calling the champions to take their places for the final challenge. She needed to get to the field so she could support Harry. 

“Bill, I --”

“I can be patient, Hermione, and I’m willing to take your lead. Whatever that looks like.”


	2. Chapter 2

Bill was playing with fire. The whole family had gone to visit dad in St. Mungo’s, but Bill had stayed behind. He had no excuse to offer them, had simply stated that since he typically spent more time sitting with his father than anyone else save his mother, it was only fair to allow the twins, Ron, and Ginny the opportunity to go without him.

If his mother had suspected for a moment the thoughts running through his head, she’d have never blithely suggested he could “keep Hermione company” while they were gone - in fact, eldest son or not, the formidable witch probably would have torn him to pieces, starting with his cock.

Hermione was 16. It was one month after his 25th birthday. And they were alone in the house together.

He sat in the library despite the insistence of the organ between his legs, an untouched book open on his lap. He didn’t want to chase her - he _did_ , but that was another matter entirely - he wanted her to come to him. Anything else could be construed as coercion or any number of other disgusting terms which could be applied to their situation.

A sound, no louder than a mouse scurrying down a corridor, and then the doorknob turned. His whole body tensed with anticipation as she joined him, closing the door behind her. 

She wore a pale yellow sundress with a wide neck, cap sleeves, and a hem that didn't reach her knees. It stood out against her tanned skin and gave him a great view of her toned arms and legs. 

“Hi.”

“Hello, Hermione. Looking for a book?”

She shook her head, rejecting the easy out he'd offered her. “Looking for you.”

“You've found me.” He moved the book from his lap to a nearby table and laced his fingers together. “What can I do for you?”

“I'm 16 now.”

“I know.”

She gave an exasperated sigh. “Are you going to make me say it?”

“I'm trying to make sure you know what you want and what it is you're asking for. You're an intelligent witch, Hermione. This is a delicate matter, and I don't want to misconstrue anything or overstep where I'm not welcome.”

He'd never been more jealous in his life as when she closed her teeth over her plump bottom lip and bit down hard enough to turn the skin white. His trousers were immediately a very uncomfortable place to be, but he couldn't adjust himself without running the risk that the motion would unfairly tip the scales for her. 

“How do I make you welcome?”

Filing those words away for future wank material, Bill stood. Her eyes darted furtively down to the front of his trousers and a blush blossomed on her cheeks.

“What are you asking for?”

Her mouth moved silently for a moment, and the prospect of hearing filthy descriptions from her virgin lips made him harder still. 

“Can we...”

“Yes,” he answered simply when her voice failed her. They could. It didn't matter what she was asking for, he would give it to her. “As little or as much as you want. If that's just a kiss…” 

“You wouldn't be happy with just a kiss.”

He shrugged as though it wouldn't gut him to not see this through to the end. “You're in charge.”

“Kiss me,” she said after a moment. It came out like a question, but her confidence would grow. 

“Where?” he asked, a slow smirk working its way across his lips. 

This time, the blush encompassed her neck and the top of her chest as well. After a tiny pause, her hand flew up from her side and she pressed the tip of one finger to her lips.

Her breathing became erratic as he crossed the short distance between them. Her eyes were trained on his chest so he cupped her cheek, the tips of his long fingers sliding into her hair, and tilted her face up slightly.

“You can tell me to stop at any time and I’ll walk away. No guilt, no hard feelings. Alright?”

When she nodded her understanding, he lowered his lips to hers. The first touch was gentle but not timid, and he wasn’t quite sure which one of them the sharp inhale came from. He stayed that way for a moment, breathing her in, enjoying the simplicity of the chaste kiss. Then he pulled away slightly - the tiny noise of complaint which escaped her shooting straight to his groin - and returned.

Her lips were slightly parted this time, and his tongue peeked out to tease the opening. She moaned, her tongue meeting his tentatively. He wanted to devour her, to gather her up in his arms and claim her, mouth first then body. It took levels of self-control he didn't know he possessed to keep the kiss from turning carnal. 

“Bill,” she protested when he pulled away again, her hands landing on his shoulders and gripping him hard enough to keep him steady so she could initiate a kiss of her own. Before he knew it, they were snogging in earnest, mouths fused together, tongues sliding against one another, her body repeatedly bumping against his in a rhythmic way that heated his blood beyond what he’d thought possible and surely left no doubt in her mind how badly he wanted her.

“Touch me,” she whined in between kisses, and he obeyed, his hands bracketing her torso in such a way that his thumbs caressed the sides of her breasts. She mewled her encouragement, so he moved his thumbs inward just a touch, her mewl turning into a moan as he made circles on her soft flesh through the fabric. Ever more inward he moved until he brushed over the hardened peaks of her nipples. Hermione gasped, her body pressing tightly against his.

He lowered his mouth to the exposed skin where her neck met her shoulders, wrapping one arm around her waist to hold her upright as he licked and sucked, the fingers of his other hand teasing and pulling her nipple.

“Please,” she rasped, her hands finding his hair and her body moving as though she wanted to crawl inside him. “Please, Bill. I need - take me.”

A few steps - wherein her feet never touched the ground - and he was lowering her to the sofa, following her down because she wouldn’t let him go. Lying atop her, careful not to crush her with his weight, he moved his mouth to her breast, letting her cries wash over him as he nibbled, his hand discovering skin softer than a cloud as he glided it up from her knee. The closer he got to her knickers, the louder she became until he touched the soaked cloth, his fingers unerringly finding her clit and pressing firmly.

The torture was exquisite: her hands tearing at his hair, her hips rising and falling against him as though she was riding him from below, her screams of peaking pleasure ringing in his ears. And it took longer than it should have for him to realize that the low, rumbling growl he was hearing was coming from him. 

Lifting his head was tricky, since she was still holding him in place, but he had to see her, had to know what she looked like after the first orgasm given to her by another. By him. 

Her whole body heaved with the breaths she took through parted lips, eyelashes resting on flushed cheeks, her hair spread out like a lion’s mane across the sofa, the skirt of her dress around her waist. The wet spot he’d left over her breast stood out darkly against the bright yellow of her dress, as did the slightly pink mark on her neck. Pride surged through him at the thoroughly debauched sight. He would wait for her, yes, because he wanted her, because he cared about her, and because no one else should ever see her this way.

She came alive when he placed his hands on either side of her knickers, her hands joining his, allowing him to sit up as they removed the barrier together. The knickers fell from his limp hand to the floor when her legs spread apart and he saw just how wet she was. His mouth watered, the primal urge calling him to feast upon her being barely overridden by the logic that their time alone would not last forever.

He didn’t know how long he stared until she brought him back with a “Bill, please!”

“You deserve so much better than a quick fumble on a sofa, Hermione.”

“I don’t care,” she protested, but he wasn’t listening, too concerned with opening his jeans one-handed.

He lowered them past his bum, just enough to expose himself, too impatient to have her to take them off completely, and leaned over her as he took himself in hand. The functional touch combined with the sight of the young woman beneath him was almost enough to overwhelm him.

“This might hurt a bit.”

Her eyes locked with his for one unending second and then she nodded.

The first _woosh_ from the other room had gone unheeded, but the second broke the bubble they’d been in and terror crossed Hermione’s face. At the third, they finally started moving, scrambling to right themselves before they were discovered. Bill jumped to his feet and jerked his jeans back up over his bum but didn’t close them immediately, instead he pulled out his wand and shot a swelling jinx at the library door to gain them a few seconds if someone were to come looking for them.

His timing couldn’t have been better, because the next thing he heard was Ron calling out for Hermione. Bill looked down at her, watching as she stepped into her knickers, seemingly focused on the task, her dress still not completely dry and her neck still bearing his faint mark. She stood to pull her knickers over her bum, her eyes widening as the motion brought her briefly face to face with his half covered erection. There were no words he could form about how this was for the best, not while his body thrummed with adrenaline and denied pleasure. For a moment, he was consumed with the need to grab her and apparate away, take her somewhere they wouldn’t be interrupted, and finish what they’d started.

She stepped closer and he thought to mention that she might want to be careful or she’d end up with a second wet spot on her dress from pressing against him, but he couldn’t find the words before she lifted her hand to the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. He’d shared precious few kisses with her, but he hoped he interpreted the gratitude and affection this one seemed to convey correctly.

The door handle rattled, but held firm, and they separated a second time, Hermione fleeing to the nearest bookshelf and Bill scrambling to close his jeans around his very persistent erection. Once that was accomplished as best he could, a quick flick of his wand dried her dress, a second healed the spot on her neck, and then he returned to his chair and his book as Hermione plopped down on the sofa. The door handle rattled a second time followed by a dull thump like a shoulder or a hand smacking against it and then finally opened. 

“Trouble, Ron?” Bill asked, droll, because he knew his voice would be steadier than hers.

“Stupid old house. No surprise finding you in here. You two and your books." 

“Stay or go, Ronald, but please be quiet. I’m trying to read,” Hermione snapped.

Neither of them moved or dared to breathe until Ron muttered “Yeah, alright,” and left, closing the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

“At least I know now witches will be interested in me for more than my looks.”

“You’re incredibly brave. Any witch would be lucky to have you,” Hermione piped up from where she stood, farthest away from his bed so that his family could be close to him, hoping he would understand what she was saying.

“She’s right,” Mrs. Weasley immediately agreed, though her voice wavered from the tears she was barely managing to hold back.

He looked away from his mother to look at Hermione, but since they’d entered his room, he seemed to have trouble doing so for more than a few seconds at a time. She hated seeing the forlorn look in his eyes, like he was waiting for her (or any of them, really) to be overwhelmed and run screaming from the room. It was sheer luck she was there at all, having been scooped up with the rest of the family after the battle when they were informed Bill’s injuries were bad enough he had to be taken to St. Mungo’s. 

Hours they’d waited, thinking the worst, unable to do more than wring their hands and listen to Mrs. Weasley’s almost continuous sobs, until a Healer had come to tell them Bill was awake and past the worst of the immediate danger. It was those words which frightened Hermione the most: immediate danger. He’d been savaged by Fenrir Greyback, the same werewolf who’d turned Professor Lupin and murdered or turned countless others. The only consolation was that Greyback hadn’t been in his wolf form at the time, though there was no telling the extent of how it would affect Bill; the Healers could only guess.

When a medi-witch came to shoo them out of the room so Bill could rest, Hermione tried to impart without words that she would be back, but the look in his eyes never changed. Hours later, she stepped out of the Burrow under the pretense of needing some time alone, waiting until she was under the cover of the apple orchard to apparate away. St. Mungo’s had settled into night mode, the lights in the hallways dimmed, and she knew visiting hours would soon be over.

“Bill?” she called softly as she opened the door to his room. He lifted his head at the sound of her voice and started struggling to sit up. She’d heard the Healer’s dry recitation of the injuries that were hidden by the light hospital gown he wore, but it wasn’t until this moment, watching the pain cross his face, that it all sank in. She hurried to his bedside and laid a hand on his arm. “No, don’t move.”

“Hermione --” Her stomach sank. She knew what he was going to say by the way he still refused to meet her eyes.

“No. Whatever self-pitying nonsense you’re about to spout, you can just stop it now. A couple of scars aren’t going to make a difference to me.”

“It’s not just the scars. The healers say there will be some personality changes, especially around the full moon.”

“Are you still you?”

He hesitated, and her heart ached that he seemed to be carefully considering his answer. Then, softly, “Yes.”

“Then it doesn’t matter. Honestly, Bill, I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you.” Finally, his eyes shot up, hope brimming over in them as he looked at her. She gestured vaguely at where he lay. “And if I have to wait for you to come to terms with all of this, then I will.”

“Hermione?”

“Yes?”

His arm tensed under her hand, then he brought it up quickly and tapped himself on the lips.

She laughed around a sob and leaned closer, cupping his uninjured cheek and pressing her lips to his, careful to stay away from the side where the deep gashes pulled against the sensitive tissue. “I was so scared. When they said --”

“It’s alright, love. I’m here.”

“You almost weren’t. What would I have done then?”

He didn’t answer, just ran his hand over her hair and lowered her forehead to his lips.

The worst was coming and they both knew it. Neither of them could guarantee they would be there when it was all over. But for now they took what comfort they could in still having each other.

━━✫・*。

“Hermione. Hermione, wake up! Please, love.”

Bill ran his hands through his hair, too focused on the woman thrashing about in the throes of a nightmare on the bed before him to notice when he dislodged the leather thong holding it back and it fell to the floor. 

He didn’t know much of what happened to her at the Malfoy mansion or he’d risk getting closer, touching her, holding her, kissing her, anything to bring her out of the pain she was obviously reliving.

She screeched, and he felt the charms he’d cast on the room as soon as he arrived bow a bit under the strain of containing it.

_Sod this_ , he thought. He’d survived Fenrir-bloody-Greyback, he could survive pulling his girlfriend from a nightmare.

“Hermione!” he yelled again, wordlessly casting a spell which bound her flailing arms to her sides as he climbed onto the bed beside her. He cupped her cheek with one hand and laced the fingers of his other with hers. “Snap out of it, love.”

He didn’t know if what he did helped or if his presence was a mere coincidence, but she settled, her body still tense but not struggling as her breathing evened out. He only had to wait a moment before her eyes fluttered open and as soon as he saw they were clear he released her bindings.

“Hermione, love, are you with me?”

Wordlessly, she flung herself at him, burying her face in his chest as she pressed herself tightly against his body. He held her while she sobbed, his hand clenching hers for dear life. There weren’t words to describe the terror he’d felt when the others had apparated into his garden, her limp body slung between them. Months had passed since the trio left to complete some mysterious errand for Dumbledore that was supposed to ultimately help them defeat Voldemort. Knowing what kind of danger she was in had made things infinitely worse for him than the years he’d spent impatient because she was at Hogwarts and unavailable to him. He may never know the extent of what happened to her while she was gone, but so long as he lived he planned to be the one to chase away her demons.

Gradually, her tears slowed, and his enhanced hearing began to pick out the whispered prayer she spoke into his chest. “Please” and “Bill” were repeated most frequently, followed closely by “I love you.” If those weren’t enough to pierce his heart, “I’m sorry” and “Don’t leave me” certainly would have.

“Sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for. I am never going to leave you,” he said, tears stinging his eyes. He cupped her cheek, moving his hand into her hair when she refused to let him turn her face up. “ _Never_. I’ve loved you so long I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t a part of my life. As soon as this stupid war is over I’m going to marry you and finally show the world the amazing, brilliant witch I’ve fallen in love with.”

She looked up at him, finally, her watery eyes seeking reassurance. He returned her gaze as steadily as he could, his heart soaring when she surged forward and kissed him as though her very life depended on it. It was Hermione who changed the tone of the kiss halfway through. One moment, he was offering his heart and solace, the next she was demanding his body and passion. Once again, it was “Please” and “Bill” and “I love you,” but this time it was also "Touch me” and “Chase her away."

Bill was able to keep his head long enough to ask if she was certain - which earned him an unamused glare - lock the bedroom door, and cast the necessary preventative charms.

He undressed her slowly, removing a matching piece of clothing from himself each time so they were always equal. He’d tended the worst of her injuries, so the biggest shock for him was seeing her almost emaciated body. It sickened him that she had gone through so much, but he pushed past it, knowing that the last thing she needed right now was for him to dwell on what she would certainly see as her imperfections. However, he didn’t miss her gasp a moment later when his shirt joined hers on the floor and she saw the full extent of what Greyback had done to him. Her hand trembled as she reached out to touch him before pulling away, embarrassed, but he encouraged her by leaning closer and nodding. 

She would regain her figure, he would personally see to it, but it had been almost a year since his run-in with the sadistic werewolf, so the scars he bore were as healed as they would ever be. And he didn’t want her to be intimidated by them. He didn’t expect his skin to be so sensitive to the grazing touch of her fingers, each one leaving him shuddering and moaning. He didn’t expect an air of strength to return to her as she examined him, especially not strength coupled with possessiveness and protectiveness. And he certainly didn’t expect the mostly dormant wolf inside him to sit up, take notice of the claim she was staking, and _approve_.

“Fuck, love,” he growled. “Never ever going to let you go.”

Moonlight streamed in through the windows as he continued to bare their bodies. He found himself tempted beyond reason by the unblemished bit of skin where her neck met her shoulder. It was that spot where her scent was strongest, and he knew it would fit so nicely between his teeth, her body writhing in pleasure beneath him as he bit down hard enough to leave a mark.

But that was a conversation for later. Bill pressed a kiss against her lips and pulled away. He explored her, letting his wolf stop to bathe in her scent when the urge struck him. She was strong, intelligent, and beautiful, the perfect mate. 

Situating himself between her legs so he could put his mouth to good use there instead, he pulled back the hood covering her clit with his fingers. Her slit glistened with moisture, and two fingers slid inside her easily as he latched onto her clit with his mouth. She was so responsive, she was coming in moments, his name on her lips.

He stalked back up her body, his eyes never leaving hers, and when he settled himself in the cradle of her thighs, the trusting look she gave him filled him with warmth. Then he lined himself up with her entrance and sank inside, his wolf howling as he finally made her his. Her body clenched around him, pulling him deeper and holding him in place; there had been a few witches before her, but it had never been like this.

“I love you,” he murmured against her lips as he started to move, reaffirming the words they’d whispered in secret so often over the last few weeks.


	4. Chapter 4

Three additional days had passed before Bill allowed her to leave the bed he’d placed her in when she, Harry, and Ron had arrived at the Cottage after being whisked away from Malfoy Manor. He’d insisted it was just a precaution for her health, but the real reason brought a blush to her face even now, weeks later. However, as much as she’d enjoyed every minute of his attentions, the part of her which knew they were all living on borrowed time had railed against being forced to remain sedentary.

As soon as he realized what the three of them were doing, Bill unapologetically joined their planning sessions, completely ignoring Harry and Ron’s protests. He became an invaluable source of information about the internal workings of Gringotts that Griphook had steadfastly refused to provide. Bill insisted it was the least he could do, since, as the Order’s sole member inside the goblin bank, he couldn’t actively participate in the break-in they were planning. He breathed his apologies, regrets, and fears into her skin every night. He wanted her to come home safe, and promised to give her anything she needed to make that happen.

“Your mind is wandering, love,” he said from behind her where she stood at the sink, dishes she’d insisted on washing the muggle way sitting forgotten in the water. His hands bracketed her in as he pressed his body along the length of hers, his arousal already evident. “I’m curious: Are you thinking about me?”

“Bill,” she tried to protest, but it came out more like a moan, her body relaxing into his. 

Harry and Ron had gone for a swim after dinner to burn off a bit of cabin fever, but they wouldn’t be out all night, and she and Bill had so far managed to avoid getting caught together.

He lowered his lips to the side of her neck and inhaled deeply. “You smell so good. Come to bed with me, love.”

She glanced out the window where the moon had barely begun to rise -- the moon! It was nearly full. With her and the boys being on the run for most of the last year, she’d never gotten a chance to talk to Bill about what side effects he had from Greyback’s attack, but now that she was thinking about it, he’d been progressively more attentive to her all day.

“Bill,” she started again, turning around to face him. He pressed his lips to hers and she fell into the kiss, forgetting for a moment what she wanted to say. Her body responded as it did every time Bill touched her: with immediate rising heat.

“It’s a full moon,” she said when he moved his lips back to her neck.

“Not until tomorrow. But you don’t have to worry. I’ll be gentle with you, love. I promise.”

She shivered, not doubting his sincerity for a moment. Bill had so far been an amazingly considerate lover; even her first time had exceeded all expectations. Spelling the dishes to wash themselves, she nodded and slipped her hand into his.

It didn’t occur to Hermione that one of the boys might come looking for her after their swim until she heard Ron’s voice on the other side of her door. At the sound of the handle turning, Bill swore under his breath and jumped out of bed, dislodging her where she’d been dozing against his chest. There was no time for him to find his wand or dress himself, so the first thing Ron saw when he opened the door was his naked brother.

“What the bloody hell?” 

Despite how quickly he’d moved at first, now that they were well and truly caught, Bill affected an air of nonchalance, bending down to pick up the grey button-up Hermione had taken off of him an hour earlier and handing it to her.

Ron didn’t seem to know where to look, with Bill standing in front of him, naked and unashamed, and Hermione trying to quickly but carefully slip on the shirt without exposing herself. His face turned red and a vein started to pulse on his forehead.

“How -- what -- no. Just no. I thought --” He looked helplessly from Bill to Hermione. “You can’t -- she’s -- and you’re --”

"Are you done?" Bill asked when Ron seemed to run out of steam.

“Bill,” Hermione cautioned, but he ignored her.

“You know, any sensible person would have apologized and excused themselves by now.”

“But -- but -- what the bloody hell is going on here?”

“Well, Hermione was mostly asleep and I wasn’t far behind her --”

“And can you put some clothes on?”

“No. I don’t think I will. You’re welcome to leave, little brother. In fact, do you often open a lady’s bedroom door without knocking first? You’re just lucky we were finished and not --”

Ron’s hands flew up but didn’t make it as far as his ears. “I don’t want to hear it!” 

Obviously sensing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with his brother, Ron turned to Hermione. "And you're okay with this?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

“Can’t you see he’s using you? Who knows how many women he’s dragged up here during the full moons.”

Hermione touched Bill lightly on the arm when he moved to take a step forward. Regretting for a second that she’d only buttoned enough of the shirt to keep it closed, she slid out of bed to stare Ron down properly. “How dare you, Ronald. You know nothing about our relationship.”

“‘Relationship’? What relationship? This --” he gestured vaguely at Bill where he stood behind her, “-- this is not a relationship. He’s taking advantage of you.”

The low rumbling noise that started coming from Bill did not bode well for Ron’s continued existence. “Yes, Ronald, ‘relationship’. It’s been going on a lot longer than you know. Now, I suggest you get out and let us get back to bed. We can talk about this more in the morning.”

“I’m not leaving you in here with him.”

“You will leave, and then Bill and I are going to go back to bed. Good night, Ronald.”

Ron opened and closed his mouth a few times before stomping out of the room. Hermione sighed, knowing he was probably heading straight for Harry to tell him what happened. Bill bent down and kissed the top of her head before closing and, this time, locking the bedroom door.

━━✫・*。

“I could have handled him,” Bill said when he turned back around. “I’ve been dealing with him a lot longer than you have.”

Hermione pinned him with a glare. “It’s not just you he was insulting. If he thinks I’m naive enough to be used and discarded by you during the full moon, that says a lot more about me than you.”

He stepped closer to her, finally spying his wand where it had rolled slightly underneath the bed. 

“Besides,” she said as he picked up his wand and quickly cast both warding and silencing charms. She swallowed hard before continuing, obviously recognizing the spells, “it sounded like you were going to tear him apart.”

She looked delictible: hair disheveled from their earlier activities, wearing his shirt, which, thanks to her haphazard buttoning, hinted at more than it hid, her bare legs sticking out below. 

“I might have done, but it turns out I much prefer watching you tell him off.” 

Bill reached for the buttons of the shirt and made quick work of them, noting with pleasure the way Hermione’s eyes darted down the length of his body to his growing erection. Her cheeks pinked prettily at the sight then burst with deeper color when he slid his hands beneath her arse and lifted her up to deposit her on the bed. She gasped as her back hit the mattress, an airy, expectant noise that sounded quite a bit more pre-orgasmic than either outrage or surprise. 

It wouldn’t be a secret any longer. He wouldn’t allow it. Now that Ron knew, he’d surely tell the whole family, and being in a relationship with Hermione was not something Bill was ashamed of.

He joined her on the bed and made love to her with everything he had, keeping his own orgasm at bay by focusing his thoughts on how he would finally ask her to marry him with the ring he had stashed in his pants drawer. Once she was thoroughly sated, he let himself go, joining her in bliss.

“Tomorrow night we sleep in my bed,” he said, curling her into his side a few minutes later.


	5. Chapter 5

Allowing her to leave the Cottage without him, knowing what he was sending her into, was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. But over the months she, Ron, and Harry had stayed with him, he had done everything he could to help prepare them for what lay ahead. He’d also spent every possible moment expressing his love for her from the mundane to the romantic and the sexual. Uncaring of his brother’s discomfort, he kissed her desperately one last time, as though his kiss was the strongest form of protective magic he knew.

Once they were gone, he waited anxiously beside his floo for any word, hoping for and dreading news in equal measure. Then, less than a day after their goodbyes, Bill joined the other members of the Order at Hogwarts to fight for his life, for her, and for a future. It was maddening, trying to stay focused as he dueled Death Eaters when all he wanted to do was hunt down his witch and whisk her as far away from danger as he could - even though he knew without a doubt she’d never let him. He loved his little she-wolf, but he also trusted her and her abilities.

Seeing Fred’s unmoving body lying on the floor of the Great Hall nearly sent him tearing through the dwindling battle anyway. He’d been surrounded by death and destruction since before the sun rose that morning, but this was the first time it had truly hit home. If Fred could be taken from them, so could she. He was stopped in his tracks by Madam Pomfrey rising from where she’d crouched over his brother and crying out, “He’s still alive!”

Alive, but in a deep coma, his life slowly fading, Fred’s condition was too serious for the Healer, who had dozens of other patients to tend to. He needed to get to St. Mungo’s immediately, and Bill was the only family member around. He would hate himself later for the way he hesitated, his loyalty torn between his brother and his girlfriend, but a second later, one hand on Fred’s shoulder, he apparated them both to hospital. 

Bill stayed with his brother only long enough to ensure he was being cared for before apparating back. He arrived to silence. 

But not complete silence. There were mourners in the Great Hall, small pockets of friends and family hovering over the bodies of their loved ones, their cries blending together. And if there was time for people to mourn, the battle must be over. Before he could locate Hermione or his family, a shout of “No! No!” from outside set his heart racing, and Bill ran, pushing through the crowd blocking the doors to the courtyard. He made it to the front in time to see Harry Potter tumble, very much alive, from Hagrid’s arms.

The next few seconds happened very very quickly, and Bill found himself dragging Hermione backwards into the castle. Death Eaters followed them in, and they fought back to back at the base of the grand staircase. The tide had definitely turned, though, and their opponents were quickly dispatched. 

“Voldemort,” Hermione breathed, and Bill looked up to see Harry battling the dark wizard on the staircase. She stopped him when he tried to interfere. “We have to kill Nagini. Nothing else matters right now, not even him. She can’t be far.”

Harry and Voldemort Apparated away, but movement on the landing proved Hermione right, and the two of them rushed up to confront the snake.

Bill faced it straight on, throwing every hex and jinx he knew and watching each one bounce off. Hermione was trying to flank it, and Bill winced every time one of his spells skittered in her direction. In her hand she held what looked like a talon or very large tooth, and he couldn’t understand why she wasn’t trying to cast. “Nothing’s working, love.”

“Don’t stop!” she yelled back, inching closer.

But her voice had brought the snake’s attention back to her and it turned, already prepared to strike.

“ _Protego!_ ” Bill shouted with every fiber of his being and the shield sprang into being just in time for the snake to thud into it. Bill took the opportunity and grabbed Hermione, pulling her away and down the stairs.

“I can kill her, Bill. I just need to stab her with this.” She raised the talon up so he could see.

“I don’t know what that is, but I don’t want you getting close enough to use it!” Turning his head, he saw that the snake was only a few steps behind them and once again preparing to strike. He threw another curse over his shoulder and wasn’t surprised when it had no effect. At the base of the stairs was a pile of what looked like tapestries, and he prayed they weren’t covering chunks of broken stone. Placing his hand on her lower back, he pushed Hermione ahead of him. “I love you.”

He didn’t expect her to grab him and pull him along with her, but when had she ever done what was expected of her? He held her close when they landed on the soft pile, shielding as much of her body as he could with his own and closing his eyes against the incoming attack. 

A battle roar rent the air and the attack that never came. Bill chanced a look at the same time Hermione started squirming out of his arms. Above them a swirling mist of dark magic rose in the air, dissipating bit by bit. 

“Neville!” Hermione cried out in relief and glee, jumping up to hug the other Gryffindor who was holding - of all things - a gleaming silver sword. “You did it!”

That was all the celebration they had time for as a pair of Death Eaters interrupted them by rounding the corner and they were once again fighting for their lives. 

Hermione had just successfully dispatched the one on the left with a body bind curse when the other stopped mid-cast before disapparating. Grabbing her hand, Bill led her towards the others as all around them, the sounds of battle slowed then stopped.

Hope rose in his chest as a cheer went up, more and more voices quickly joining in. They’d done it, and a quick glance at Hermione confirmed that she knew it, too. Once again, she surprised him by not running off to find Harry and Ron. Her shoulders slumped in relief and she stepped closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Holding her, breathing her in with breaths deeper than he would swear he’d taken in a long time, was the sweetest part of their victory.

To say their engagement was a surprise would be a bit of an understatement. They stayed together as best they could throughout the seemingly endless funerals, everyone so wrapped up in grief that no one took note of their closeness or the unobtrusive gold band which appeared on Hermione’s finger at the end of the first week. It wasn’t long after the family got the news Fred had finally woken from his coma that Bill and Hermione approached his parents about planning a wedding.

His mother simply blinked at them for a moment, looking from one to the other to their joined hands, before barking a shout of joy and rounding the table to squeeze the life out of both of them. Despite the bone-crushing hug, Bill was aware of the tension leaving Hermione. She’d been so concerned about what his family would think, between her youth, the age difference between them, and his mother’s seven year crusade to see Hermione matched with Ron. He’d hoped and tried to convince her that her worries were unfounded. The questions eventually came, but from a place of curiosity not condemnation.

The floo call to Charlie to ask him to stand as best man was equal parts entertaining and embarrassing, but he promised to be there. Ginny squealed in delight when Hermione asked her to be maid of honor.

They married at the end of August behind the Burrow in a well-attended ceremony they had both insisted not become a media circus. And when Hermione joined him at the altar, Bill did not look as though he had ever met Fenrir Greyback.


End file.
